Between the Porch and the Altar

Something happened between my days as a student of the liturgy, my early days as a priest-director of liturgy, and my growing into a pastor. As I wondered what that was, the words of the Prophet Joel, which we hear each Ash Wednesday, came to mind:

“Between the porch and the altar
Let the priests, the ministers of the
Lord, weep,

“Why should they say among the
peoples,
‘Where is their God?’ ”

I can only call it a type of conversion where the liturgy with its symbols and rituals became integrated with a call to justice among the assembled people of God. Joel invites the priests to stand between the Holy of Holies, the sanctuary of God, and the people gathered in the courtyard of the temple. There, “on the porch,” the priest stood as the interlocutor of the divine presence within the actions of the human family.

The priest had the awesome role of living in the presence of God, touching and seeing the Holy One through the rituals, songs, and prayers of worship. Yet he stood at the head of the people as intercessor before God on behalf of God’s People. As the presider, he gathered the people in God’s Name for festival and, at the same time, in his humanness represented that very same people.

Passing Through Signs and Symbols
At the center of my ritualized vocation was the celebration of the Eucharist. Within the Eucharist, the signs and symbols focused on eating and drinking with the Lord in the Father’s presence. The signs were of the earth. As the words of the early liturgical document, the Didache, which we sing often, speak: “As grain scattered and sown”, wheat is harvested, milled, baked into bread. And then the wonder of the Eucharistic mystery becomes ours, transformation into the Body of Christ. “Fruit of the vine,” grapes planted and tilled, harvested, crushed into wine again become the vehicle of transformation. They become the Lord’s Cup of blessing. All this I knew, believed, and celebrated.

Like all symbols and signs, the liturgical actions of taking, blessing, breaking and pouring out invited participation in a more profound mystery, God himself. In the eating and drinking, by the power of the Spirit, the People of God became the Body of Christ in the world.

My “between the porch and the altar” experience came as I realized that the Eucharistic actions were not contained to the interior of the church. Those who ate and drank of and with the Lord became food and drink for the world.

They became what they ate, the Body of Christ for others. Little by little through the years, I learned that the Eucharist was, not only life-giving for me, but also for the entirety of humankind. The Eucharist was standing between the life-giving presence of Christ liturgically and the same presence of Christ in the joys and sorrows of the human family.

As I celebrated in my early days here at CTR, I would marvel at the diversity of God’s People in the parish. From the presider’s chair I would often survey the community during the readings. As the community was gathered around the Lord’s Table, the People were a wonderful lot! I was growing into a pastor! As a friend from my days as a young priest, and now as a parishioner, chides me “You’re really getting to like this job.” And indeed I am, for life in the sanctuary and life on the street come together.

From Clay to Silver
Soon after becoming the pastor, I met with a small group of Spanish-speakers before their Mass on Sunday evening. I, without fanfare, handed them a silver cup and plate for the Eucharist. They told me that was not their cup and plate. Their Eucharistic service was made of clay. They told me they were just visitors. I said in my, then halting, Spanish: No, no…no son visitantes. Son feligreces! (No, no, you’re not visitors, you are parishioners!) We met on my journey.

It would be another year or so, before I received a call from the Apostolado Hispano (the Spanish Apostolate). The caller, another priest, told me he could not find another Spanish-speaking priest, but had a “desafío”, a challenge. He duped me with the idea, according to him, that my “accent” was good. I should start pastoring the community myself!

I jumped off the porch of the temple, as it were. I began to learn the language, the customs, the music, and lifestyle of my Latino brothers and sisters. They taught me not only their language, but the warmth of their embrace and the smile of their hospitality. I learned the joys and tears of their lives. The community also accepted my ways.

Blessings
Blessings came my way. The center of my priesthood still was the Eucharist, but now enriched whether in English, Spanish, or Latin. Other communities grew within CTR. The Church at worship and prayer and the Church in mission and life became the very visible Body of Christ given for the life of all. “From the porch” I could see an American, Filipino, Afro-American, Indian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Lebanese, Korean, and Latino Church. Christ was in all and for all! Such a blessing as I moved from ritual to life.

CDH